


Merry Christmas, Stiles

by Kawaiicoyote



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:22:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/pseuds/Kawaiicoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the right thing to do, Christmas spirit and all that jazz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> So hi! Yes, this is a little fic to accompany the text conversation I made. To anyone who was hoping for something like this, I hope I did it justice.  
> Yay for Christmas fics since it's that time of yeah again xoxo  
> Kind of unbeta'd, but hopefully there aren't too many horrible mistakes, I roughly read over it
> 
> Also to clarify, full italics sentences are the text messages.

He won’t do it. In fact he promised himself he wasn’t going to do it. But with his thumb over the contact tile he knows that he has to at least try it. It’s the right thing to do, Christmas spirit and all that jazz.

Stiles holds his phone above his face from where he’s sprawled out on his bed and just stares at Derek’s stupid little thumbnail of a face. He presses the call button only to end the call before the call can even connect.

It’s stupid really. They’ve been gone for _months_ , even Peter has fallen off the face of the Earth. And while usually that would be a joyous occasion for everyone on a normal day, it just doesn’t bode well for Stiles in the least.

With a huff he puts his cellphone on his forehead and starfishes out on the unkempt bedspread. The smooth surface is still warm against his skin, a miniscule weight that if he just ignores he could probably fall asleep with it still there. Except the nagging little thought in the back of his mind won’t let him sleep.

He snatches the phone up and glares up at it as he unlocks the device again. Derek’s scowling blurry face once against is front and center. He rolls his eyes at himself and opens a new message but his fingers just hoover over the keypad.

It could wait until the morning since, with a quick look to the top of the screen, it was only a little after three.

He could just be wasting his time not knowing if Derek kept his phone or phone number.

Nobody has heard a peep from him, except for Scott who found out that they were leaving. Stiles is _not_ bitter or jealous about that fact, he absolute is not, fuck you very much.

On top of that he really doesn’t know if he’ll get an answer back and that’s the part that worries him too. Stiles hasn’t tried texting or calling because he doesn’t want to know what it’ll feel like if he doesn’t get anything back.

The screen above him goes dark and he’s tempted to just throw the damn thing on the nightstand and go to sleep, or even sneak down and see if he can open one of his present early. Instead he unlocks the screen again.

“Fuck it,” Stiles mutters to himself and taps out a quick message.

_Idk if u even have the same number anymore_

He hits send before he can chicken out which means he has to commit to the whole text now. No going back, soldier on, fuck his life.

_But I wanted to say merry x-mas or whatever_

There! He did it! Stiles tosses the phone off to the side and almost regrets when he hears the muffled thud of it hitting the carpet below instead of his nightstand.  He managed to lift his pillow, fully intending to retrieve it but last minute decides to curl up on his bed and pull his pillow over his bed. It’ really the only thing he can do to block out the sound of not getting a text message back, or a phone call, or fuckity hell a smoke signal while he’s at it.

He’s almost managed to doze off when he hears the muffled whistle of a text message and practically flings himself to the other side of the bed where his palm slips off the side of the bed and sends him tumbling half way onto the floor.

It’s an awkward position, with his lower body still on the bed, and his elbows and forearms will most definitely have carpet burn in the morning, but his heart is pounding and he just doesn’t _care_ as he opens the new text message.

_Merry Christmas, Stiles_

It’s a simple little text. All grammatically correct with capitalization, no text speak in site. And it’s the best thing Stiles has ever seen in his life.

Stiles can feel the grin spread on his face as he slides the rest of the way onto the floor and stares up at the ceiling, his arms splayed wide and phone still clutched in his hand.

There’s no need to reply or send any other messages, for now. He said what he wanted to for the night. Everything else Stiles decides can wait until Christmas, or even New Years, is over.

So Stiles picks himself up off the floor and crawls under the covers and settles in to get a few hours’ sleep before his dad wakes him up for the traditional Stilinski ass crack of dawn breakfast.

And if he falls asleep reading Derek’s text over and over again, well, that’s his own little secret. 

**Author's Note:**

> *twiddles thumbs* So, feedback would be lovely.


End file.
